


Bleed it Out

by energist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Forced Addiction, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 18:04:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3178049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/energist/pseuds/energist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Winchester luck would have it, Sam's cure of the Deanmon was incomplete. that mistake now comes back to haunt him when his brother goes dark side again. A second attempt is planned, but what happens when Dean already knows all of Sam's tricks?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleed it Out

: : :

Chapter One

: : :

 

 

He'd been messy, there was no denying it.

He'd been so relieved at the prospect of having his brother back that he'd forgotten the last steps; there'd been no bloody hand, no Latin incantation... no cure.

Sam knew that still having the Mark could lead Dean back down the same path, and he had no intention of letting it happen. He'd seen his brother's dead body more than enough times. He'd thought keeping Dean from overexerting himself would keep the curse of the Mark at bay. He was so cautious he wouldn't even let Dean make the kills when they'd hunt. He'd let him get some hits in, sure, but Sam would do the killing. With all the killing feeding the Mark and turning him into a demon when he died, it had stood to reason that starving it would prevent that. Of course, Sam didn't know that his panacea was Dean's poison; that the Mark needed to be fed with death, and starving it only made it worse. 

The reversion had been gradual, then all at once. Every hunt seemed to make Dean a little more on edge; Sam had chalked it up to frustration over not getting to hunt like normal. But one long night on the trail of a rogue vampire, the Mark reared its head. 

They'd chased it to the basement of the high school where it'd been feeding exclusively on the less athletic students; apparently this particular vampire thought sedentary kids would end up tasting like the human equivalent of veal. It'd led them to the boiler room, hoping it could lose the hunters in the maze of pipes, and it had for a few minutes until it turned a corner and came face-to-face with Dean. 

Dean only smiled at it, dropping his machete rather than beheading it. The vampire didn't make a move, curious as to why it hadn't already been killed. Dean remained still for a moment before lunging forward and grabbing it, one arm around its torso, the other on its head. Sam turned the corner just in time to see Dean rip the vampire's head off of its body before looking at him, smiling as his eyes turned black in the middle of the blood splattered across his face. 

The first time Dean had gone demonic and Sam had tied him up in the dungeon, he'd spent hours thinking of ways he could have caught Dean sooner than he had, mitigated some of the damage his demon brother had caused. The most dominant trait in the Winchester genes had always been beating one's self up. But all this mental self-flagellation had led to some good; he'd figured out an easier way to restrain Dean should the need arise again. 

He stared at Dean, trying not to get emotional. Sure, he'd managed to bring him back to his human self once before, but it was still hard to see Dean like that; hardly a hint of the person he was remained in the dark pools of his eyes. Sam swallowed hard, and chanted: 

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus...." 

Dean roared, his voice deeper than Sam had ever heard it as he fell to his knees. He may have been a Knight of Hell, but he wasn't seasoned enough to have immunity to the exorcism yet. Sam dipped his fingers in the blood seeping from the vampire's corpse, drawing a quick Devil's Trap around Dean, saying the next few words from the exorcism to hobble him each time he started to recover until the trap was complete. 

Dean growled, baring his teeth. "Oh, got me trapped again? Remember how well that worked last time?" 

Sam didn't even dignify him with a response; he simply turned, and walked away, leaving Dean alone. "You won't keep me here for long, Sammy!" 

Sam returned a few minutes later, carrying the enchanted handcuffs. Dean laughed. "You really think I'm gonna let you get those on me again?" 

"Yes, actually." He opened them and approached the trap. "Exorcizamus te..." Dean fell to his knees with a growl and Sam quickly snapped on the cuffs and fastened them. 

"Now you're just pissing me off, Sam... Just wait till I get out this time... the things I'm gonna do to you..." 

Again, Sam didn't reply, pulling a knife out of his coat pocket to scratch off part of the trap, enabling him to drag Dean out of the trap and building and out to the Impala. He didn't bother wasting time getting rid of the vampire corpse - when it was discovered by the janitor and the community saw that the killings had ended, they'd figure out the corpse was the killer and chalk it all up to some kind of vigilante. Maybe they'd even erect some modest memorial to the secret hero who had saved the town's children; Sam decided that once this was all over they'd have to go and see it. 

He pushed Dean into the backseat that he'd prepared with a Devil's Trap on the seat just in case. Lucky for Sam the cuffs kept him weak enough to get him onto it without much of a fight. Dean growled at him as he shut the door and walked around the front, climbing into the driver's seat. 

Dean laughed as Sam pulled out of the parking lot, heading for the bunker. "You really think this is gonna work again? You can't possibly have gotten that stupid..." 

"Shut up." He tried to stay calm, knowing it wasn't Dean in the backseat. Not really. It'd been harder the first time, he was scared what the demon version of his brother had said was how he really felt. He realised once Dean was back that it was all meant to get to him, that none of it was true. 

"Shut up? You sure that's what you want? Anytime I'm in that..." he paused, licking his lips, "tight little ass... you're always begging me to whisper all kinds of filthy shit to you." He smirked. 

Sam gritted his teeth. It wasn't a lie, but it didn't mean he wanted to hear about it. Not now. Not from a demon. 

The drive to the bunker seemed to have taken forever, and Cas was already waiting for them by the entrance. He'd been the only reason Dean had been captured when he was terrorizing Sam in the bunker last time, so Sam texted him to meet them there in case something went wrong again. 

"Sam. How is he?" he asked as Sam climbed out and shut the door behind him. 

"Same as last time... no... actually, he might be worse. I- I don't know, really. I mean, he ripped a vamp's head clean off with his bare hands... but it took us months to find him before... I don't know just how bad he was then..." he sighed. 

"Do you have a plan beyond chaining him in the dungeon?" 

"Not really. All I can do is dig through the Men of Letters' archives and see if there's anything we can do." He reached for the door handle to get Dean out of the car then stopped. "You should probably bring him in..." 

"Of course, Sam." Cas pulled the door open and Dean hissed at him, drawing no reaction. He leaned in, grabbing Dean in a bearhug and pulling him from the car as Sam opened the door to the bunker. 

He followed them inside, getting halfway across the main room before he stopped. "Hey, Cas... uh, you can get him down there and chained up on your own, right? I wanna start researching as soon as possible." 

"Yes, of course." Cas headed toward the dungeon as Sam went to the MoL library. It was true he wanted to start figuring out what to do as soon as he could, but more than that, he didn't want to see Dean growling and yelling while being chained up. He'd felt enough blame for Dean turning back into a demon; he didn't need to see him getting restrained to make him feel worse. 

Sam and Dean had kept the box of books and papers and old film reels about demon curing from before, just in case they'd needed to use them again. Sam pulled it from the shelf, dumping its contents onto one of the long wooden tables, then sat down, grabbing the nearby bottle of whiskey and pouring it into the closest, likely used, glass. 

There wasn't much in the box for him to find though. He and Dean had gone through it all before, memorizing every piece of it in preparation to cure Crowley, but Sam had managed to forget a part of it with Dean. His heightened concern had led to his forgetfulness. He flipped through the report written by the Men of Letters who had discovered the curing ritual, stopping when he'd reached the summary. "Fuck..." 

He'd found where he'd gone wrong. The final part of the ritual; forcing the demon to drink consecrated blood directly from the ritual performer's hand, followed by a Latin chant. He hadn't done it. Seeing the darkness fade from Dean's eyes had gotten him so relieved that he'd completely forgotten to finish. 

Cas walked into the library, rolling his shoulders a little. "It took a bit of work, but he's restrained." 

Sam looked up at him. "Cas..." 

"Sam... what is it?" 

"It's my fault." 

"What is?" 

"Dean... I didn't do the curing ritual right... it's why he's a demon again..." He held up the paper detailing the ritual. 

Cas took it, looking it over. "It's not your fault. It's a complicated ritual, and he seemed to have become human again. If anyone should bear blame, it should be me for not being able to pick up on the dormant demonic presence that was still inside him." 

"No... this is on me." 

"No, Sam. It's not." 

Sam sighed. He could sit and argue with Cas over who was to blame until the end of time and not get anywhere. But he had more important things to worry about right now anyway. “Cas. Can we just… we need to find a way to fix him.” 

“We already do.” 

“I mean something that works.” 

“We already do.” 

“Like what? We aren’t killing him. Don’t even suggest it.” 

“The same ritual as before. The only reason it didn’t work on Dean was because it was left incomplete. If you were to do it again and finish, it should work. It worked long enough before, so I don’t foresee him being outside of its effectiveness when finished.” 

“So what do we do when he breaks out again? Half the doors he broke last time are still in pieces.” 

“Do it somewhere else. It’d need to be secluded of course, but I should be able to find a suitable location.” 

“So we’re just supposed--”, Sam barely managed to start a response before Cas disappeared, reappearing a moment later. 

“I’ve found one. 2.354 hours away by car. I’ve taken the liberty of setting up a proper… restraint system.” 

“Uh… thanks.” 

“When would you like to leave? I can get Dean back into the car anytime.” 

“You shouldn’t come.” 

“Why?” 

“After last time? If you hadn’t grabbed him he’d have not only been able to kill me, he’d still be out running around doing whatever he wants. He’s not going to be happy with you.” 

“And he’ll be happier with you?” 

“No. It’s just… I’m not going to have your blood on my hands.” He paused. “And if something goes wrong, someone needs to be left who can--“ He couldn’t finish the sentence. 

“I… understand.” Cas didn’t want to have to kill Dean, even if he had become a demon, but he knew full well that it could come down to that. 

“Get him out there now. Text me the address once we’ve left.” 

“Okay.” 

“And… put him in the trunk.”

: : :

Chapter Two

: : :  


"When I get out of here I'm gonna cut you open, Sammy!" Dean slammed his fist against the inside of the trunk. Apparently putting him there instead of the backseat wasn't as effective at shutting him up as Sam had thought it would be. It'd worked on Crowley... then again Dean was a Knight of Hell, he may very well have been stronger than Crowley, and if not stronger, he certainly had a stronger will. 

The rest of the drive was punctuated with threats from Dean and the sounds of him unsuccessfully trying to get out of the trunk. 

When Sam pulled up outside the ramshackle house he checked his watch. 2.354 hours. Or what Sam assumed was 2.354 hours. Close enough. 

He didn’t waste time getting Dean out of the trunk and into the house, chanting a few words from the regular exorcism if Dean dared to fight back. He’d dragged him down to the basement, tying him to the table Cas had supplied. 

The table had been a large metal slab, sitting at an incline but adjustable via a grouping of wheels underneath, leather straps sprouting from it like weeds. The straps were carved with symbols and sigils; some of which Sam recognized as demon-proofing, and others that he’d never encountered before and could only assume were further proofing. 

Sam pushed Dean against the table, fastening the straps around his chest and limbs, only removing the sigil-ed handcuffs once he was secure. He tossed them aside onto the additional metal table nearby, also left by Cas. He’d texted Sam again after giving him the address: “Also left table of tools. Use as you see fit.” 

They weren’t just any tools. They were the same kind used by Dean to torture Alistair years ago; salt, holy water, Ruby’s knife, what looked like a bonesaw, a bowl to catch blood or hold holy water, and a few other pointy implements. 

Dean grinned at him. "You know you can't keep me here for long, Sam." 

"I'll keep you here as long as it takes." 

"You aren't gonna fix me this time, and you definitely can't keep me here forever. I mean, you didn't cure me before, what makes you think you can do it now?" 

"Shut up." He tilted the rack back a little, picking up Ruby's Knife from the table of implements, letting Dean get a good look. 

Dean laughed. "What're you gonna do with that? Kill me?" 

"No." He slid the blade over the back of Dean's hand, making a clean cut. 

"Ow, that hurts!" Dean whined sarcastically, following with a pout. "You really think that's gonna do anything? You can't torture me into leaving, I'm not possessed, it's all me in here, Sammy." 

"Shut up!" He grabbed the jug of holy water off the table and hit Dean in the face with a large splash. Dean hissed and growled at him, clenching his teeth. 

"That won't work either. Like I said. All this being tied up is just gonna get me horny," he chuckled. 

Sam slid the blade of the knife under Dean's now wet t-shirt and cut through the front, exposing his stomach and chest. He grabbed the jug again, upending it over Dean, soaking his face and torso as he roared. "I'm gonna fucking kill you you stupid bitch!" 

"You said the same thing before." Sam dragged the knife slowly down Dean's torso, Dean grunting and howling as he did. 

"That's not... gonna do anything..." 

"Actually it will." Sam said, the fear and sadness draining from his voice. "See, I learned a new way to cure you. Just gotta weaken the demon part of you enough for the human side to break through, then it's just a little incantation and we're good." 

Dean laughed. "Yeah, that's not gonna work." He paused then added, mockingly, "And what makes you think you'll get it right this time? You didn't do it right before!" 

"Stop talking." Sam dragged the knife down the same wound, reopening it just as it had started to close, grabbing a fist full of rock salt from the table and rubbing it in. Dean roared like nothing Sam had ever heard before. He wasn't even sure Dean was big enough to be so loud. 

Sam poured nearly the whole jug of holy water onto Dean next, washing away the salt, drawing another roar from him as it seeped into his open wound. When the roar died out, Dean was panting, scowling at Sam. 

Sam eyed Dean up and down, picking up the bowl that had held the rock salt up in his free hand, the other still holding the holy water jug. "Looks like I need to get more goodies," he said, trying to sound matter-of-fact, but it was still hard seeing Dean, even a demonic Dean, in pain like that. True, he needed more holy water and rock salt, but he also needed to leave the room to recollect himself, to harden his resolve. He just had to remember that this was going to fix Dean, this was going to bring him his brother back. 

Sam walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him and locking it, double checking the devil's trap drawn in the doorway. He dragged himself up the rickety stairs, heading for the kitchen where he'd kept the extra holy water and salt. He'd poured them into non-glass containers for use in the basement lest Dean could somehow break them and use the shards against Sam. 

He'd started refilling his containers, listening for any sounds outside the house. He’d chosen one far enough away from anywhere else that no one should have been able to hear Dean roaring, but he hadn’t planned on him being as loud as he was, and who knew what kind of demon summoning abilities a Knight of Hell could have hidden up their sleeve. 

There was hardly a sound; just the wind coming through the gaps around the doors and windows, the frames having long since warped. Even Dean was quiet… ‘shit.’ 

Sam grabbed the partially filled jug and bowl and high-tailed it down the stairs, nearly breaking several of the wooden planks on the way. He set the water and salt vessels on the bottom steps and tried to unlock the door quickly, fumbling with the key for a moment before it found its way into the lock, the tumblers sliding into place with a loud click. He pushed the door open, and the first thing he saw was the demon torture table… empty. 

“Dean?” 

Nothing. 

“Dean? Where are you?” He paused to listen. Still nothing. “I’m just trying to help you.” 

WHACK. 

Something slammed into the back of Sam’s head like a truck, knocking him unconscious.

“…ammy…” 

Sam groaned, barely able to open his eyes. 

“Come on… wake… time for… Sammy…” Sam could hear Dean’s voice, only making out every few words between strings of indecipherable fuzziness. He tried to lift his hand to rub the back of his head, but no dice. He couldn’t lift it, and he wasn’t sure if it was tied down or if he was just in the middle of regaining his motor skills post-concussion. 

“C’mon Sammy…” The voice grew clearer. 

“nngggg,” Sam mumbled. 

“Wake up Sammy…” Sam groaned for a moment before Dean slapped him, hard enough that it was amazing he didn’t knock him back out. 

Sam could swear he tasted blood, the taste of it and shock of pain from the slap pulling him from his stupor. He tried again to lift his hands, realizing that they were indeed restrained in the hexed leather straps of the rack. 

“Dean…” 

“Yes?” Dean asked mockingly. 

“Let me out…” 

“Now why would I want to do that? You were trying to torture me.” 

“I was trying to cure you…” 

Dean laughed. “Well you obviously weren’t doing a very good job now, were you?” 

“I wasn’t done…” 

Dean laughed again, picked up Ruby’s knife, and started picking under his fingernails with it. “That doesn’t count for much. You thought you were done before and looked what happened… the amazing demon brother two: electric boogaloo!” 

“Dean, please… just let me help you… this isn’t you.” 

Dean slammed the blade into the table, inches from Sam’s head. “No,” he said, his voice frighteningly calm. “You’ve had your fun… you remember what I said to you? What I said to you over and over again? I said I was going to destroy you…. I said I was going to cut you open from stem to sternum and let you watch me play doctor. I said I was going to have so much fun with you.” 

He pulled the knife back out as he crawled on top of Sam. “And now,” he purred as he slid the blade down the side of Sam’s neck softly, just enough to break the skin and extract a few thick drops of blood, “we’re going to have so much fun.” 

Sam hissed, clenching his teeth. “Dean… fight it…” 

“Why would I ever want to fight this? All this power… I can do whatever I want, and even you can’t stop me. No little Jiminy Sam on my shoulder to tell me not to drink, not to kill, not to fuck.” 

Dean pushed against the back of the torture rack, next to Sam's head, slamming it back into a horizontal position, Sam making a startled whimper. 

“Don't be scared, Sammy. You always loved when we did this before... You'd always beg me to...” he trailed off, smirking. 

Sam spat at him. “I didn't beg you for shit. You aren't my brother.” 

Dean laughed. “Oh, I'm not? You think good old me is hidden deep down inside here somewhere, don't you?” He climbed on top of the rack on all fours, straddling Sam. “This is one-hundred percent me. This is the real me, I'm your brother.” 

He cut up the side of Sam's shirt, pulling it off him and tossing it aside before moving to sit on his stomach. “Still haven't gotten that tattoo back? Hmph, I'd have thought having a demon for a brother would have made you get on that a bit sooner...” He dug the tip of the knife into Sam's chest where the tattoo had been, cutting a crude copy of the anti-possession tattoo into him as he howled. Dean smiled as he finished. “Not that it'll do you much good now though, you're still gonna have a demon in you.” He laughed at the almost cheap-porn sound of it, but he couldn't resist. 

“Dean...” 

Dean rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Dean, Dean, Dean... do you know how to say anything else? Your getting more repetitive than cable.” He reached over to the table of tools Sam had been using and dug through it for a moment, finally picking something up with an, “A-ha!” 

He held up a roll of duct tape, pulling off a piece and ripping it with his teeth. He laid it over Sam's mouth, pushing on it to smooth it out and ensure it stuck. “There we go, so much better. No more repetition, but I'll still be able to hear you making all those pretty noises for me.” 

Sam grunted. “Oh please, I know you like it. You always liked it when I had you tied up before...” He slid his free hand down to rub Sam's half hard bulge. “And it looks like you like it now--” He undid the restraints below Sam's waist, making it easier for him to slide off the rest of his brother's clothing. 

Sam was about to try and kick a leg up between Dean's legs, but Dean's senses were far sharper now, and he swung the knife back, pushing it's blade against the front of Sam's thigh with enough pressure to be just shy of breaking skin. “Now, now, don't misbehave. You wanna know what happens when you misbehave?” 

Sam just glared at him. 

“I'll tell you.” Dean pulled back the knife and leaned in to whisper in Sam's ear, “The last guy I fucked didn't listen... didn't wanna take my whole dick, whined that it was too big... so I tore his lungs out with my bare hands and threw his body into the river...” 

Dean pulled back and added, “So if I were you, I'd fucking behave.” 

Sam just stared at him for a moment, wide-eyed, but nodded. He knew Dean wasn’t kidding. Hell, he’d come close enough to doing that when he was human if someone got too close to hurting Sam, so as a demon it was no doubt going to happen on more than one occasion just for pissing him off. 

Sam let his legs go limp. He didn’t have much choice at this point. If Dean killed him then there was no way he was going to cure him and it wasn’t just that Sam needed his brother back, but letting a demon Dean run around was only going to lead to far more innocent people getting hurt or killed. 

Dean smiled and sat back on his knees. “That’s a good boy.” He pulled off his red button up shirt and threw it aside before pulling his black tshirt up over his head and adding it to the pile. His hand grabbed at his cock, straining to get free from his pants. 

Sam had always loved seeing Dean like that before. He loved how cocky he would get over Sam’s obsession with the size of it, loved when Dean would tease him by showing it off like that. Somehow seeing this version of Dean do the same things the old one would do almost made it worse. 

“Mmm, haven’t given you this is a long time, have I?” He undid the button of his jeans. “Though I certainly gave it to plenty of other people… but none of them were ever quite as good at taking it as you… but I suppose you were always a slut for my dick.” 

Dean pushed one of Sam's knees up to his chest and held it there with one hand while the other ran a finger over Sam's hole momentarily before pushing in. Sam grunted softly. “Hm, feels like you didn't take any dick since I... evolved.” He slid the finger in deeper. “Wouldn't think a slut like you could have stayed away from sex for so long...” He pulled back and pushed his finger back in along with a second. 

Sam whined, feeling himself stretch around the thickness of Dean's fingers. Part of him wanted to struggle, to fight back, despite knowing it wouldn't have done him any good. But the rest of him was trying, and failing, to fight the urge to push himself deeper on Dean's fingers. 

“So greedy for it...” Dean sounded amused. He pulled his fingers out and reached into his back pocket, the action pushing his pants below his ass, and pulled out a little single use lube packet. “You should be grateful I keep this on me.” 

He grabbed the waist of his underwear, pushing it down, grabbing his pants on the way. He unceremoniously tore open the packet with his teeth and squeezed the contents into his hand before reaching down and smearing it up and down his length. “Still gonna be a tight fit...” he almost groaned. Not like he didn't love a tight hole, but he also didn't like waiting for it to stretch out enough to handle his girth. 

He wiped the extra lube onto Sam's rim before pushing inside again. Sam whined a little at the chill, stopping when he suddenly felt the head of Dean's dick rubbing against him. 

Dean pushed in hard, stopping as soon as the head was in while Sam whined loudly. “Oh c'mon, Sammy, that's just the head... If you can't handle that, how are you gonna handle it when I'm balls deep in this sweet ass?” He started pushing again, though the sheer thickness of his cock made it hard to make much progress. “Gonna make you take it all....” he grunted as he bucked his hips, trying to get a little deeper. 

Sam kept making noises through the tape and struggling against the bonds holding his arms down. He'd always dug his nails into Dean's back when he'd fuck him before; it somehow made the stretching less painful. 

Dean glared at him. “No struggling.” He pushed in deeper while Sam struggled again. It wasn't that he wanted to disobey Dean, but the sensation of having him inside made the movements involuntary. 

Dean growled, “I said... no. Struggling.” He grabbed the knife and slammed it, point first, into Sam's left shoulder, sending the tip straight through and into the table. Sam howled, his body shaking from the pain until Dean wrapped his hand around Sam's neck. “Learn to fucking obey. Don't forget what I told you about that boy and the river...” 

He pulled back a little before pushing in again, somehow even harder than before. Dean only stopped pushing to reposition himself to make the entry easier. As he bottomed out, he groaned with pleasure. “Forgot how good you feel on my cock...” he trailed off. 

Dean slowly started pulling out, Sam sighing (rather, imagining he was sighing thanks to the tape on his mouth) from the feeling of relief after being so full. The relief was short-lived however as Dean started forcing his way back in again, the stretch only marginally less noticeable than before. 

“Fuck--” he groaned, “gonna love breeding this hole...” 

Sam's jaw would have been slack if it wasn't held in place with the tape. He'd always gotten off on Dean's dirty talk, though he was bothered by it turning him on now; he didn't want a demon to turn him on. 

Dean slid out again, Sam still blissed out on the filth coming from Dean's mouth when he was snapped back to reality by Dean grabbing the knife handle and twisting it as he pushed back in. Sam screamed into the tape, Dean smirking. “Everyone gets so much tighter when they're in pain...” he groaned. Once again he pulled back, ramming back in this time in one movement. Sam would have kept yelling if the pain from the twisted knife hadn't distracted him. 

As the knife pain subsided, he could feel that he'd loosened up around Dean a bit, his demonic brother taking the chance to fuck him loose while his attention was elsewhere. 

Dean started sliding out and pushing back in with a faster rhythm, no pauses between the repeated in and out. Sam was making nonstop noise as Dean fucked him, whimpering each time Dean was fully in, the size nearly too much for Sam to handle. 

Dean picked up speed. “Good boy... maybe I won't have to kill you...” He hooked Sam's legs around his waist as he fucked into him, leaning in close to growl in his ear, “Maybe.... I should just keep you chained up somewhere... wouldn't have to go hunting pussy when I want it that way...” 

His rhythm didn't slow as he kept talking filth. “And you know, Sammy...” he started, his hand moving to Sam's neck again, this time applying pressure, “I could even keep you on a constant diet of my blood...” 

Sam whined, Dean pressing harder on his throat until Sam could barely breathe. “Might boost me up the demon ladder even... me having the 'Boy King' as my bitch...” He laughed, thrusting in especially hard several times. 

He loosened his grip, keeping his hand on Sam's neck as he kept pounding away. He used his free hand to grab the knife handle again, pulling it out slowly, his thrusts never slowing. Sam cried out as Dean groaned. “That's it... keep getting tight like that and I'm not gonna last long...” 

His thrusting was relentless, the table's straps the only thing keeping Sam from being pushed off. He growled in Sam's ear, “Wanna hear you beg...” He took his hand off Sam's neck, picking at the corner of the tape for a moment before stopping. “And don't even think of calling for help. No one's gonna hear you anyway...” He picked the corner more, peeling enough away to get a grip on it and slowly pull it away, Sam wincing as the tape pulled at his stubble. 

The only noises coming from his mouth were groans and whines, but there was no calling out. 

“Beg for it, Sammy... wanna hear you beg me to fill you up...” 

“Dean--” 

“Beg me...” His voice changed to a threatening snarl. 

“Please...” 

“Please...” Dean grabbed at his neck again, fingertips digging in, “...what?” 

“B-breed me...” 

“Fine...” Dean moved his hand and bit down on the side of Sam's neck, teeth sinking in as he rammed it home, growling into the bite as he pumped his load into his brother. Sam moaned loudly, the overstimulation of it all getting to be too much. 

As Dean's orgasm faded out, he let go of Sam's neck, leaving behind a circle of teeth marks surrounded by an already darkening bruise. He unhooked Sam's legs from his waist and pulled out of him, smirking at the sight of Sam's pink, stretched hole. 

“So pretty,” he mused to himself. “Now, to fill the other end.” He stroked himself a few times as if prepping to fuck Sam’s face, but grabbed the knife and dragged the blade down his own palm, the blood welling up quickly. 

He tossed the knife back onto the tool table and smiled at Sam, already holding his lips shut as if his life depended on. Dean just laughed. “You know that won’t do you any good.” He pinched Sam’s nose shut with his free hand, waiting for Sam to cave. 

It took a shockingly long amount of time, as if Sam had tried to let himself fall unconscious, before he had to open his mouth to gasp for air. Dean took his chance and slammed his palm to Sam’s mouth, letting the blood gush in before he rubbed his throat to make him swallow. 

“There we go. Good boy.” 

Dean watched his palm as it healed shut before yanking up his pants and underwear. He grabbed his shirt, but didn’t put it on. 

“There. Now, I’m gonna go out, have a little fun, maybe have a few more good fucks while I wait for that blood to take hold.” He waltzed over to the basement door, then turned to face Sam. “Don’t have too much fun while I’m gone.” He grinned, turning back aroundand shutting the door behind him.

  



End file.
